Monte Cook's Blog, page 132
July 12, 2012
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June 12, 2012
Language of Game Design
I must admit, some of the responses I got from some of my recent columns on game design surprised me. A great many of them were simply, "you should play game X," or "sounds like game Y." It surprised me (and maybe bugged me just a little) for two reasons. First, because the vast majority of the time these were well-known games that people were mentioning and the presumption that someone who does this for a living, full-time, for a lot of years was unfamiliar with them was, well, weird. But second because I didn't understand what the point was. I felt that it didn't contribute to the conversation.
But then I thought about it some more and realized I was being really, really dumb.
The problem here is that there is no common language to talk about tabletop game design. I might use a term like "rules light" and it means something entirely different to me than it does to you. Or you might try to describe the difference between a system that allows players to shape the world with one that doesn't, but you call it, for lack of a better term, "player authority," when "player authority" could easily mean that players have more control of the game on a tactical level.
In fact, even my use of the term "tactical level" there likely meant different things to different readers.
We can also get in trouble quickly if we use comparative terms when talking about an rpg, such as "this aspect is like a boardgame," "this is or "this is like an MMO." When you compare something to something that it is not, people sometimes take it as pejorative, even if that wasn't your original intention. Or, you say it to someone who realizes your intention but doesn't like the thing you're comparing it to and still sees it as an insult. Try comparing some literary book lover's favorite classic book to a television show, and you'll see what I mean.
So sometimes, talking in terms of other rpgs is the only way we have of conveying meaning. When someone talks about a mechanic idea, the easiest thing to do is talk about it in terms of games with similar mechanics. Talk about player authority, and someone says "FATE system." That might not be the kind of player authority you meant, but at least it's a common ground from which to discuss it. The problem, of course, comes in if one of the two people in the conversation can only think in terms of what already exists, when you're trying to discuss something new. If one person talks about a death spiral mechanic and the other says, "like Call of Cthulhu," (referring to the Sanity mechanic) that's a fine response, but both need to realize that there are other ways to do a death spiral mechanic.
The idea of referencing existing games to talk about new games isn't likely one I will personally adopt, however. When I'm talking about something new that I'm working on, I'm not going to talk about it in terms of other games. In fact, I don't think most creators like to do that. You're not likely to hear someone say, "I'm writing a new game with character generation like FATE, a combat system like 4E D&D, and investigation resolution like Gumshoe." That may sound ridiculous, but I have heard people sum up 3E D&D that way: "they took the skill system from Rolemaster, the character creation from GURPS, and the rest from Runequest." It may seem sometimes that that's how game designers work, but I can assure you that I don't know of anyone that actually designs that way. Game designers are influenced by games they like, but I can't imagine someone creating a Frankenstein's monster of a game like that. Most game designers want to do something new. If they want to create a game with player empowerment, it's not to make a game like other games that offer that kind of gameplay, but exactly the opposite--they want to make a game that does it differently.
(If I do use examples when I am talking about game design generalities, I will often default to D&D references, simply because it's the most popular game historically and so it's likely to be the one that most readers are familiar with. And let's be honest, that's probably particularly true of people who read my stuff. I suppose, in a way, it's a common language, but because there are so many other ways to play an rpg than D&D, it's ultimately not a great one.)
I do wish there was more of a true and broader common language for those of us who think (and perhaps overthink) about this stuff. I know that Ron Edwards and those on the Forge forums attempted to create one years ago, sort of, but in many people's eyes it was rooted in game design theory that they didn't like, or it felt very judgmental, so it seemed that for everyone that adopted it, far more rejected it. (And of course, many more never heard of it.)
In many ways, the tabletop rpg hobby is still young compared to other pursuits that geeks like us like to go on (and on) about at length. Film buffs and film makers, for example, are not terribly unlike game buffs and game designers in the way in which they have to talk about creative things in a very technical and sometimes precise way. And they, in fact, do have a sort of common language in which they can do just that (although they, too, rely a lot on film comparison). Film is a lot older (and obviously more popular). I wonder how long it took to develop.
June 5, 2012
Logic in RPGs
Logic in RPGs
Disclaimer: This is going to ruffle feathers, but you can't please everyone. If this seems like a salvo in the so-called Edition Wars, let me assure you that it's not. It's a game design issue and it extends far beyond editions of any one particular game. I lament that there are now so many game design issues that one can't even discuss without them turning into Edition War name calling and finger pointing. In that regard, that detracts from, rather than adds to, the discussion. (I also know that there will be a lot of gamers who will read the following essay and find it utterly baffling because they can't imagine playing any other way. Bless them.) Ah well, here goes.
There were a number of excellent role playing games released in recent years that take as one of their design principles the idea that the rules should be tight and seamless. By that, I mean that the rules should provide clear procedures for everything that happens. Every contingency is covered in the text (or rather, the text is written so that if it's not covered there, it doesn't work.) If a character uses a frost ray, only a fire wall will stop it. Other situations do not matter. It's written like a board game. Just like how no one tries to reason that the race car in a Monopoly set should go faster around the board than the iron, there's no room for reasoning within the confines of the rpg, either. It leads to clarity, fewer rules arguments, and provides a valiant attempt at wiping out what had been a scourge of the game table for decades, the rules lawyer.
I, however, will not be designing any such games.
When I first tried World of Warcraft, I was initially intrigued, but my personal interest in the game waned quickly as I wandered the world of the game. I vividly remember finding some old tower and going in to explore in my first couple of hours of play. It was furnished and beautiful, but to my dismay I found that I was unable to affect anything inside the tower. I couldn't so much as knock over a chair. It was then that I realized that of course I couldn't knock over a chair. Because I wasn't the only one going into this tower. I was just the most recent of many hundreds of thousands of people, and there would be just as many after me. And it had to look the same for each of them. It made sense from the game's point of view, but for me, the world I explored suddenly seemed very plastic. It was like going into a spooky cave to fight pirates only to discover I'd actually gone into the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World. I could only do what the people who designed it thought I should do.
The GM is the Key
The number one strength of a tabletop rpg is the fact that there's a living, breathing person sitting at the table next to you that can arbitrate the rules. The GM's presence means that the player can do whatever he wants--whatever he can think of. In a computer game (MMO or otherwise) the player is limited to actions that the designers anticipated. Tabletop rules systems that cover every contingency end up putting similar restrictions on players. This can lead to clarity, but at the expense of ingenuity. I will argue that a great game can be designed embracing the idea that the GM and his or her ability to use logic and reasoning. (Of course it can. That's the way virtually all tabletop games were designed for decades.) That's not sloppy game design (making the GM do all the work), it's a design paradigm that can shape a game designer's choices. Well, let me restate. It could be sloppy game design if done poorly. If done right, it's no simpler and no less work than to do it the other way. In fact, it might be harder. Because it means--from the designer's perspective--to let go the tight clench around "how the game must be played."
One reason to design a game tightly and seamlessly is to insure that gameplay from table to table does not vary much. This makes perfect sense if you have a large and active organized play program, or a game that somehow relies on players moving from GM to GM. But if that's not a part of your design goal, then who cares? If by giving GMs more ability to arbitrate, it means that things work differently from GM to GM, the only problem that is caused is if a player switches from GM to GM (if they move to another town, let's say). A player might have to get used to the new game a bit. But is that any different than switching to a GM running a completely different game? The transition is still likely much easier.
The ability for a GM to say, "in my game..." and then describe how things are different, special, or unique, is a powerful one. GMs feel ownership of their own campaign. They become invested. This emotion is one of the prime motivations for being a GM. (There are many, of course, and vary from GM to GM.) There's a reason why the role is called "Game Master" and not "Guy Who Just Keeps Track of Initiative and Rolls for the Bad Guys."
The Players Are Also the Key
By what about the players in all this? If we put more authority into the hands of the GM, aren't we taking it away from the players? I don't believe so. In fact, I think the opposite is true. (And I am all for giving more authority to players over their own actions.) By giving GMs the ability to interpret the actions in the game world using logic and reason, it gives players the authority to come up with creative responses to game situations rather than simply relying on what the game's designer thought they should do. In a rules-tight game, a player's options are spelled out for him. In a GM-logic game, the player can come up with any action she wishes, knowing that the GM can arbitrate it. In other words, if your character is on fire, the player doesn't have to look up "fire" in the rulebook's index to learn what can put it out. He can figure out how to put that fire out using real world sensibilities. (Stop, drop, and roll!) Logic becomes the underpinning of the rules. The core mechanic, if you will.
In this sense, however, "logic" can mean different things. Some GMs might go for realism. Others, for what best suits the story. A few might go with what's most entertaining for the people in the room. In the end, as long as the players and GM understand which kind of logic is being used, and its used with consistency, I don't think it really matters which choice is made. In all of these cases, "logic" is a powerful and intuitive ruleset all its own.
The Burden of Power
There's a false dichotomy, I think, underlying the assumption that putting more reliance on the GM means more work for the GM. That's where the game's designer comes into play. A game system utilizing GM authority and logic can still be created to be simple to prepare and run. In fact, it is the idea that the game (rather than the GM or logic) has to represent every aspect of the world that can make for cumbersome GMing, both in preparation and in running the game at the table.
Giving NPCs the same stats as PCs, for example, is a way that a game's rules attempt to govern reality. The underlying assumption being that a GM can't represent the NPCs on his or her own, so the rules need to do it for him. But that makes creating every NPC in the game (and remember, the GM needs to create hundreds over the course of the campaign) as time consuming as making a single PC (which a player usually does once over the course of the campaign). If the game were designed entirely, from the ground up, with the GM-logic paradigm, reliance on the GM would allow the designer to create a very simple NPC system. It would trust in the GM to create and run NPCs logically as if they were living, breathing beings in the world, and if a simple NPC suddenly needed a stat that it was not provided with, the GM could adjudicate the situation fairly and easily.
In gameplay itself, tight rules require that the GM or the players (or both) constantly refer to those rules again and again. The ability of a GM to simply make a judgement without opening a rulebook keeps the game flowing quickly and smoothly. For a well-trained GM given the ability to adjudicate rulings, doing so is easier and faster than having to look things up each time.
An Example
Say you've got a special weapon (magic or tech, doesn't matter) that makes foes all itchy so they are distracted. In a tightly written ruleset, the designer defines not only the effect, but what (if anything) can counter the effect. Maybe it would state that if the victim suffers a -3 penalty on all actions for the next ten turns unless he spends two consecutive turns and makes a new successful resistance roll, in which case the effect ends. In a GM-logic ruleset, you would write it entirely differently. You would explain what's going on in the situation, and let the GM handle the rest. So it would say that the victim is covered in an itchy and irritating powder and suffers a -3 penalty for the next ten turns while the powder was on his flesh and clothes. Then it would be up to the player to say, "I want to clean the itching powder off." And the GM says, "okay, if you take two turns, and make a new resistance roll, you can get it off." The advantage in the latter case is, the player could also say, "I'm going to jump in this nearby pool of water," and the GM is free to say, "Okay, that washes it off immediately." Or the player might say, "I use the water in my canteen to wash it off," and the GM might say, "Okay, that still takes two turns, but the roll is automatic now." Or the victim's mage friend might conjure a wind to blow the powder off. Or whatever.
Pitfalls
There are pitfalls, of course, and maybe that's the real thought experiment going on here. Because as I've said, this idea isn't new. In fact, that's the point. It's old. It's the way games all used to be. It's why the guys who label themselves "Old School Renaissance" say things like "Rulings Not Rules." With age comes experience, though, so having seen now how games can be written differently, perhaps there are modern sensibilities we can take to heart if we return to the "old ways" and have a game based on logic.
1. Consistency. With tightly written rules, you always have consistency. If the designer's doing his job, things are always explained the same way. For a game where the GM makes rulings, the onus is on the GM to maintain continuity. And I'll argue that continuity is a good thing. In fact, in some ways it's essential. If a player can't base his actions on a consistent application of the rules, he can't make informed, intelligent decisions. If climbing up a slippery slope is easy one session, but then next session a player decides to have her character climb a similar slope and it's really difficult, this lack of continuity hurts gameplay. It's also illogical. That's why I'm not concentrating on a GM-whim paradigm, but a GM-logic paradigm.
2. GM Education. The GM-logic paradigm requires an informed GM. Learning to use logic rather than detailed rules can be difficult sometimes. It requires a ruleset that focuses on good, solid GM advice. Like the saying goes, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." The same could be said for GMing. Good solid GM advice, even if it takes a lot of space in the rulebook, can end up saving space by not having to have long, elaborate rules to cover every situation.
3. "GM May I?" Some players start to feel hamstrung if they feel that every action they take is subject to the GM's whim. A carefully written game can anticipate this and make it clear that the things that the players can do, the players can do. In other words, if a character's main thing is hitting stuff with an axe, that kind of thing needs to be spelled out in the rules with enough clarity that the player knows how it will work and can play that part of the game without GM "permission." Speaking of which, it's also important that the rules present themselves in such a way that the GM isn't providing "permission," he's adjudicating. It's a fine difference, but an important one. When a player says, "Can my character jump across the pit?" she's not asking, "May my character jump across the pit?" She's asking, "Does it seem possible that my character could jump across the pit?" Players are in control of their characters. They don't need GM permission.
The tightly written ruleset offers a lot of benefits, to be sure. This isn't an indictment of that paradigm. But the GM-logic paradigm has its own benefits.
1. Lighter Reliance on Things Easily Defined. Tightly written rulesets often end up focusing gameplay on things like combat, because that's the kind of thing that is easy for rules to define. Things less structured, like exploration, interaction, investigation, travel, just to name a few things, fall by the wayside--not because they are written out of the game, but because there's no focus on them, and the tightly written ruleset is all about definition and focus. In tabletop rpg design, you often (inadvertently or not) convey as much with what you don't say as what you do say.
2. Fast, Smooth Play. As mentioned above, with less need to refer to ruleboks, games can move along quickly.
3. Creative Freedom. In this paradigm, GMs can run the kinds of games they want, the way they want. Players can try anything that they can think of. Both GM and player are free to think beyond the rules, beyond the character sheet, and beyond the dice. They are giving more authority toward the creation of story, problem solving, and roleplaying.
May 29, 2012
GenCon!
I have two different events that I'd like to call your attention to at this year's GenCon.
First of all, Jen Page and I will be hosting Geek Seekers: Investigating the Paranormal on Thursday night from 8 PM to 10 PM This is event SEM1233643 and the location is Westin : Council. We'll be talking about our experiences creating the Geek Seekers web series, showing clips, and maybe even do a mini-investigation of the Westin! The event is free, so please join us.
Earlier that day, please join me from 2 PM to 4 PM at a panel called Monte Who? It's an opportunity to come hang out, ask questions, get books signed, and find out what I'm working on next. It's event 1237837 and it's located in Westin : Capitol II.
May 25, 2012
A Couple of Quick Follow-Ups
In regard to my last two blog posts, I have a couple of things to add or clarify.
1. On Crowdfunding: Although my post was really about being a contributor to crowdfunded projects, and not a creator, I will say that I'm putting my money where my mouth is. I am so in favor of crowdfunding as a means to launch creative projects, and so certain that I'll be launching my own crowdfunded project in the next few months, I'm already consciously kicking "it" forward.
2. On Character Creation: It was not my intention to imply that people who like hours spent creating the perfect character were in the wrong. I just think that it's also valid to want to do it a different way. Most current games cater to people who love detailed character creation, and I think it would likely be a mistake to launch a game without doing so. I am interested, however, in exploring ways to do both--provide for in-depth chargen, and also provide for both low-intensity (simple) chargen and no-intensity (pregen) chargen.
May 23, 2012
Character Creation
It took me a long, long time to sort of own up to it. It's a hard thing to admit, actually. But I hate character creation in rpgs.
I'm not a big fan of origin tales and the beginnings of stories anyway. I like to get right into the action. So I guess it shouldn't have surprised me that I was predisposed to dislike character creation. But there are other, more concrete reasons I don't like it, at least the way it is traditionally handled.
1. I don't like making decisions based on nothing. I don't like deciding that my character is this great diplomat before I even get a chance to see what the adventure or campaign is going to be like. Maybe it would have been better to devote myself to arcane knowledge or trapmaking. I don't know yet. And it's frustrating to have to decide ahead of time. It's like when someone invites you to one of those formal dinners where you have to choose from three entres ahead of time. I don't know what I'm going to want to eat some night four months from now. Similarly, I don't know what kinds of things I'm going to want to be doing three sessions from now. Or ten. Or whatever.
2. I don't like spending a lot of time making a lot of decisions at once. I remember, once, in a 3rd Edition game I was running, I introduced a new player to the game. After a lot of careful consideration, she decided she would play an elf rogue. At that point, I could tell that she felt like she was mostly done. So I could really feel her pain as I watched her face take on a look of horror as another player slid a pile of books, full of choices, at her. To the experienced player, the decision to be an elf rogue simply keyed to a number (dozens, really) of other choices she could now make. But she had thought she was mostly done. (I took her aside later, and advised her to ignore all those optional books and whatnot, and we made the character creation process as painless as possible.)
3. I don't like spending a lot of time on decisions that have little importance. It's kind of crazy, if you think about it, that the decision that my newbie friend had already made--race and class--were the "easy" choices, and then she had to go through and make a bunch of "harder" choices--skills, feats, weapon selection--that ultimately would affect her character a lot less. In other words, the choices that would define her most clearly were the ones that took the least time, and the ones that only barely mattered (should I put 2 points or 3 points into Move Silently) were far more laborious.
That's why any game I create from here on out will, if at all possible, feature the following:
1. Lots of pregenerated characters. When I got started in the rpg field twenty plus years ago, it was common wisdom that "real" gamers wanted to make their own charactesr, and thus hated pregens. Pretty much the only games that offered them were games for brand new players. It's sadly taken me a long time to shake that preconception. But I'm a real gamer, and I love pregens. If you're throwing together a new game this Friday, I'd much rather sit down with a stack of pregens to choose from than pull out my dice and a stack of books to create my own. Pretty much every time. If I don't know the system, this makes things go much faster. And if I do, even better because I then likely know how to make a couple of minor tweaks to the character to make it my own. Does this make me less creative? I don't think so. What it really means is, I get my joy from the game in different ways. It also means that I have created a gazillion characters over the years, and I don't need to have the experience of creating a haughty, scholarly guy (or any other cliche) or a sneaky dwarf (or any other goes-against-the-stereotype guy), or the paladin with a drinking problem (or any other character with "issues"). Those are all great characters, and I'd happily play any of them, but I've created them all already, so I don't need to do it again. Ideally, these characters would be either right in the core rulebook or available as free downloads.
2. Fast character generation options. There's great research out there that discusses how many choices people are comfortable with in a given situation, and the numbers are much smaller than pretty much any "mainstream" game's character gen system. I want to create a game where you can make three or four important decisions and have a cool character ready to go. Ideally, it would be configurable enough so that the people who do want a bazillion options, and want to tinker with every tiny aspect of their character can do so as well. And everyone in between can be happy too. To make this work properly, the affect of the choice should always be commensurate with the time and mental energy required to make it. In other words, if deciding between wookiee and blogon really is going to affect your character forever, there should be a lot to that choice. If the decision between the 4.5 crescent wrench and the 5.5 crescent wrench is not going to matter, then there shouldn't probably be a whole crescent wrench subsystem in the game.
3. Choices that are not entirely front loaded. A lot of people want to be able to shape their whole character to fit their character concept right out of the gate, I get that. But others don't want to have to make decisions way ahead of time. In real life, and even in (good) fiction, people change over time. They develop. I'd like to create a game that embraced that idea. Where not all your character defining choices had to be made before the first adventure even started. (When I was a kid, I had a friend who refused to name his character until he had played for a while, to get a "feel" for him. That's a bit silly and extreme, but the sentiment means a lot to me.) This would mean, potentially, that the game would grow as the characters grew. There might be rules that didn't come into play at the beginning of the game. Imagine (just as an example) a game where political affiliation--monarchist, populist, or anarchist--actually affected your character abilities. Now imagine that the game was set up so that you didn't have to make that choice until you'd played three or four sessions. The issues just wouldn't come up until then. Then, after you've got to know your character, you are presented with those choices, right when they are going to affect the flow of the game. That might be kind of cool, and possibly quite preferable to having to make those choices at the beginning, based on little or no information.
Sure, there are games out there that go down these avenues already. But I think there's room for further exploration.
May 22, 2012
Crowdfunding
This is news to no one, but crowdfunding really is the wave of the future. Or rather, the present and the future. This morning it occurred to me that it is both forward-thinking and prudent to start mentally allocating money that I would normally spend on cool stuff and use it to fund crowdfunding projects at Kickstarter and elsewhere. Why? Here's my own, personal reasoning in three points:
1. Bang for My Buck. Funds go directly to the project and the people working directly on the project. I often think about "bang for my buck" when I spend money, and up until now that's been a rating for how much enjoyment or time (or both) I get for my money. With these kinds of projects, however, I can look at it both that way and a new way. If my money is going directly to the creator, to support this project, a greater percentage of my money is going directly to what I want, and not to marketing, sales, administration, or other things. (Middle managers in creative industries beware. Crowdfunding spells the end of your usefulness.)
And, on a personal level, I still benefit more, and get more bang for my buck because that creator is then that much more likely to do more stuff I will like later on, because he or she has been rewarded for their talent and creativity.
2. Active Fans. Before crowdfunding, we as fans of things were mostly passive. Someone, somewhere, tried to make something, and probably (95% of the time or so) had to go to some "gatekeeper." This was a financier, an editor, a manager, or some other person who got to say "yes" or 'no" to the creator before he or she could make it (or at least produce and distribute it). We've all heard the stories about great writers whose fabulous works were rejected before getting published. What if they'd stopped trying when one of these gatekeepers said no? Millions of fans would not have got what they wanted. In a post-Kickstarter world, some suit at FOX doesn't get to decide to cancel Firefly--it's entirely fan supported (I know... I can dream, right? But you see my point.) With crowdfunding, fans can actively support a project ahead of time, rather than after the fact, and they can do so with power and meaning.
3. Cool Projects Get Cooler. Before crowdfunding, if someone needed $10,000 to create a project, and it somehow makes $20,000, that extra money often just goes into someone's pocket (and it's rarely the creator's). If, in a Kickstarter campaign someone needs $10,000 but then reaches that, they can then start looking at "stretch goals" so that if they raise $20,000, they can enhance the project in some way. This benefits the project, and everyone who is going to enjoy it. (It's also brilliant because it benefits the people who already funded--so when you fund, you're incentivized to help spread the word to your friends.)
It's also clear to me that smart creators are realizing that those funding their projects should get more bang for their buck, and so generally I will get more for money I spend with them directly than buying something online anyway. No, I'm not advocating doing away with brick and mortar stores, online retailers, or anything like that. Crowdfunding is to get projects off the ground. In fact, even as we speak, smart retailers online and in the physical world are making sure that they work well alongside crowdfunded projects not in competition with them. Really smart retailers are actually contributing to projects that they know will sell well in their own stores.
Lastly, it's worth noting that there are people out there who still think that crowdfunding is "begging for handouts." To them, I say, "the meteor has struck, dinosaurs." I have donated money to Kickstarter projects here and there already, but I am going to be using my dollars even more from now on to support the projects I want to see made. And I'll be using crowdfunding to help get my own new projects off the ground, to be sure.
May 8, 2012
Ego Management
I get the question all the time: of everything you've worked on, what's your favorite? I've heard other people answer this question and say "they're like my children, I can't pick a favorite. I love them all." I might have used that myself once or twice. But the real answer is one that I've also heard other people use: "My favorite is the one I'm working on right now." That may sound like a cop-out, or just delusion, or perhaps shilling. But in fact, it's not. If you hear a creative person talking about their favorite project and say that it's the one they're working on now, it's the truth. It has to be the truth. Because if you don't absolutely adore what you're working on, and if you're not convinced that the world will stop spinning without it, you can't keep the motivation to do it. To put it another way, if you don't think what you're working on today is great, why are you doing it? Just for the money? Most creative people aren't that soulless. The moment I think I'm working on "just another rpg book," or "just another short story" is the day I hang it up.
The problem is, of course, that some of us keep the attitude that what we're working on is the greatest thing since sliced pizza until well after the project is done. And that breeds ego and arrogance. Ego and arrogance is needed to fuel a project, but once it's done? It's good to back away. Oh, it's fine to be proud of what you've accomplished, and I think that's healthy and normal. But overinflated egos can be a real problem in creative industries. Not only does it make one insufferable to be around, it's detrimental to one's interaction with the people one is actually creating for. It turns people away. (The flip side is, however, don't mistake self-promotion--something a good creative's got to do to eat--and ego. There's correlation there, perhaps, but not causation.)
I don't think there's anything I've worked on that I'm still not at least somewhat proud of, but I also know there's none of it that's perfect. Not one thing that I wish I couldn't go back and change, revise, or rewrite in some way. Ptolus, my beautiful and massive hardcover book is not without its errors. Third edition D&D? Plenty of balance issues, rules confusion, and design choices I would re-think if I could do it all again. I'm sure my co-designers would agree. My first novel? A bit cringeworthy, actually, but there's still a few passages I like.
I find it difficult to navigate in a world surrounded by massive egos. I and my peers--whether it be in game design or fiction writing--are at best big fish in ridiculously small ponds. In the past, I have tried to remind them of that, but it hardly wins me friends, let me tell you. So now I keep it to myself. Ego and who is "deserving" of it, ultimately, is all a matter of perspective. Unless you've saved a billion lives, maybe, keep some humility.
May 7, 2012
Player Empowerment
I was recently chatting with a college professor about the origins of the word and concept of "power" versus "authority." The general gist is that power is something that you take (with the implications of taking it by force) while authority is granted. Thus, a military coup takes power. A democratic election grants authority. So it's technically wrong to say that something can "empower" something else. You shouldn't actually say that your new workplace is empowering for the employees. Power is something you take. Authority is something you grant.
There's your pedantic thought for the day.
Still, while I'll still likely use the word "empowerment" incorrectly, it's still an interesting way of looking at the concept of how a roleplaying game grants the authority over how the game is paced. Normally, we would think of the Game Master as being in control of the pacing of the game. Something that I've been thinking about for years (because I remember when I first started going down this game design road I happen to know that it's been twenty years, actually--weird how time flies) is empowering--or rather, authorizing--players to have a say in the pacing of the game.
Now, it's worthwhile to spend a second and discuss what pacing means in this context. For my purposes here, I mean the general flow of the game from encounter to encounter (whether those encounters are combat, roleplaying, general exploration, character development, or anything else). It's what keeps the beginning of the session, the adventure, and the campaign feeling different from the middle and the end. What keeps each encounter unique, and makes the story flow in an interesting and compelling way. In a traditional story--a book, a movie, a TV show--its both the foundation and the finishing touch that can turn a mediocre tale into a fantastic one. It's really, really important.
In an rpg, most people would say that the GM controls the pacing. But is this really true? In many game systems, players have the ability, at least occasionally, to decide, "okay, in this encounter I'm really going to use my big guns." In such systems, the player gets to have as much authority in how an encounter will play out as the GM. Consider the 1st edition D&D wizard at first level, with his one spell. It's probably sleep. Because now that player gets to go on the adventure and determine "okay, I'm going to take it easy in this encounter," or "okay, this is the encounter I'm just going to take out in one fell swoop."
Now, some people criticize that because it's swingy. (Or, that the wizard should have at least something interesting to do in those other encounters--but that's another issue.) And I understand that. But that swinginess is the player controlling the pacing. It doesn't have to be THAT swingy for the concept to work, however. That's an extreme example. A better one would be a 5th level wizard deciding, "is this a magic missile encounter or a fireball encounter?"
Traditionally, it's been spellcasters who get this kind of resource management system. But what if everyone in the game had that kind of authority? 4th edition D&D did that a little with giving everyone a daily combat power, but what if it wasn't just in combat? What if the very core mechanic of a game allowed for that kind of player authority?
Take for example, the locked door. Locked doors in rpgs are weird, because they would seem so straightforward, but really depend on the kind of game you're playing. Are you playing a sandbox simulation game? Because then the difficulty of getting through that door simply is what it is. If you can't get through it, then you don't get to see what's on the other side. No matter how cool it is--no matter how much the GM wants you to see it. GMs in such a setting have to be careful of locked doors. You might accidentally cut off the whole adventure (of course, good sandbox GMs don't care--the stuff on the other side of some other door is just as interesting). On the other hand, in a narrative story-game, how difficult the lock is probably depends on how important it is to get through it. If you're on a quest to save the captive prince and the tower he's locked in has a tough door, there HAS to be a way through it. The GM wants--no, he NEEDS--you to get through it or the adventure grinds to a halt. That GM, too, has to be careful about designing his locked doors. More so than even the other GM. That's why so many heavily story-based games have lots of ways for the GM to hand wave and say "you unlock the door." Unlocking the door isn't even really an aspect of the game. It's just a minor detail of the story, placed for verisimilitude's sake.
But while I want the GM to be able to determine how tough the locked doors are in any game I play (or design), I think it would be cool if the players had the authority to say, "okay, I'm really focusing my attention on this door." This would mean that the character doesn't have a flat lockpicking ability, but would have some kind of resource to expend (or not) to accomplish the task. So he could determine, "I don't really care about what's on the other side of this door, but I'll just try it," or "I really want to see what on the other side of this door, and so by gods, I'm opening it if it's at all possible." Or anything in between. We all have been in this circumstance in real life. We all know that sometimes we give something a shot, and other times we give something everything we've got.
Now imagine the players had this kind of authority in every kind of action. Not the ability to dictate (success wouldn't be assured or it wouldn't be interesting), but the ability to influence. They could have a say in the pace of the game. The flow of the story. And the GM could count on that. It would help ensure that the game goes the way that the players want without giving away everything. Players would feel more like they could affect the world, and might be more likely to be proactive not only in the small things (like getting a door open) but in the larger plot points as well. GMs would be free to not worry about the kinds of challenges they put forth, because the players would have a bit of a safety net if things went horribly awry.
Ultimately, the GM would still have ultimate authority over the setting and the challenges the PCs faced. But the players would have more authority over how their characters interacte with the setting and the challenges. Various games have put mechanisms like this in place. And I think it's really fascinating. It's something that I'm tinkering with now.
May 1, 2012
Devouring Games
I've been a bender the last couple of weeks, reading or re-reading rpgs old and new. I have read or re-read Danger Patrol, Lady Blackbird, Old School Hack, Dungeon World, Storming the Wizard's Tower, Lamentations of the Flame Princess, Traveller (the original), 1974 D&D, Whispering Vault, Stars Without Number, Gamma World (3rd Edition), Villains and Vigilantes, and Mutants and Masterminds. More goodness than one can shake a die at. The queue still includes the new Marvel game, True 20, and a bunch more. I'm drunk with game mechanics, story, and setting, and I don't want to sober up.
I also really enjoyed the LotFP supplement Carcosa and am getting ready to read Vornheim as well.
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